


Goodnight, Travel well

by MoiraiFata



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Ficlet, Gen, POV Castiel, destiel if you squint real hard, end of the series fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-08
Updated: 2013-04-08
Packaged: 2017-12-07 20:16:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/752618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoiraiFata/pseuds/MoiraiFata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pan in to an old abandoned house. At last we saw our heroes, they had run into the house guns blazing, ready for a fight, and ready to win. Tonight, the odds are against them…but then again when are they not. This is where our story begins…or rather where it ends, with two boys who's sole purpose was to save the world and the angel they left behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Goodnight, Travel well

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic is one of the ways I see the series ending. Warning: It's not a happy ending. I was inspired by the song Goodnight, Travel Well by The Killers (great song check it out) and the lullaby version of Carry on wayward son. 
> 
> Enjoy ^_^

_*Pan in to an old abandoned house. At last we saw our heroes, they had run into the house guns blazing, ready for a fight, and ready to win. Tonight, the odds are against them…but then again when are they not._

  _The Winchester boys were facing yet another big bad and their cronies and it looked like they would be getting through this by the skin of their teeth. The house shook with the sounds of gunfire and battle cries. Flashes of light could be seen from the windows as the boys made their way deeper into the house. Fighting, killing and praying that lady luck would shine her smile on them once more._

  _Probably the biggest battle of the boys’ lives ended just as quickly as it began. The house became as quiet and as haunted as it had been for the centuries it had been standing. And this is where our story begins…or rather where it ends, with two boys who's sole purpose was to save the world and the angel they left behind. *_

* * *

 

                  The house goes silent. All that left is the sound of the breeze rustling through the branches and the occasional cricket playing its hearts song. Moments later, seemingly out of nowhere, the sound of beating wings is accompanied by the sudden appearance of a man in a dirty trench coat. As ordinary as this man looks, his presence holds gravity. Every step he takes speaks of purpose and wisdom, of truth and possibilities. Even his gaze, as disconcerting as it was, made anyone who held it feel as if he could see into the very core of them, as if he could see the beautiful creature they really were. 

                  He slowly walks up to the building placing a hand on the frame of the front door, as if he was feeling the place's history through his fingers, giving it a gaze of heavy anticipation he walks in. This odd looking man is afraid of what he might find inside, of what he may have already lost. 

                  He walks from room to room surveying the pure and utter destruction, he can easily imagine the battle that transpired there. Knowing the boys, it was most likely nothing short of spectacular. In his mind's eye he could just see the devastatingly beautiful chaos that was the Winchester's in battle. Every unconscious but synchronized move of attack, every little act of self-sacrifice. He could see it all like it was folding out in front of him. A movie with a million possible endings, but with only one ending he truly cared about. He took care to step over the countless dead bodies that Sam and Dean had fought through as he continued his search. Each step stilled his heart as fear gripped it like a vice. He, the supposedly emotionless angel of the lord had never felt so much fear, had never wanted something so badly that he could hardly breath. Was this what it was like to be human? The constant fear and longing. The uncertainty and pain? If so, he didn't want it, if to be human meant to be helpless in the face of the ones you love, then he didn't want it at all.

                  He walks from room to room surveying the pure and utter destruction, he can easily imagine the battle that transpired there. Knowing the boys, it was most likely nothing short of spectacular. In his mind's eye he could just see the devastatingly beautiful chaos that was the Winchester's in battle. Every unconscious but synchronized move of attack, every little act of self-sacrifice. He could see it all like it was folding out in front of him. A movie with a million possible endings, but with only one ending he truly cared about. He took care to step over the countless dead bodies that Sam and Dean had fought through as he continued his search. Each step stilled his heart as fear gripped it like a vice. He, the suposedly emotionless angel of the lord had never felt so much fear, had never wanted something so badly that he could hardly breath. Was this what it was like to be human? The constant fear and longing. The uncertainty and pain? If so, he didn't want it, if to be human meant to be helpless in the face of the ones you love, then he didn't want it at all.

                But he knew. He knew, deep in his borrowed heart that he could no longer deny that there was a strong possibly the worst might be waiting for him. As he made his way into what he assumed was the great room (if the fading and crumbling furniture was to be any indication) he kept that thought in the back of his mind, if only to steel himself for what might come. 

                Judging by the high concentration of bodies, this had to be the heart of the battle. He closed his eyes and let his grace flow through him. He let it move through the room like fog in the early morning. Reaching out and touching anything and everything it could. Briefly, coming into contact with souls as they made their way to their final resting places. And then he found them, the two souls he was looking for. Right in the middle of the room, in the thick of things. 

               Sam and Dean. Hands stretched out to each other and fingers barely touching as if they had tried to comfort each other in their last moments of life. His heart cried out as he ran to their side, anguish hitting him like a truck over and over again. Leaving him breathless and shivering. A single tear escaped the mask he had put up as he knelt beside them.  He reached over to gently shut the younger Winchester eyes. Eyes that no longer held the amazing lust for life he knew Sam once possessed. Shutting his eyes he pressed two fingers on each brother’s forehead and prayed like nothing else mattered…and of course at this point nothing else did.

 

...Nothing Happened...

 

                  He did it again, and again, over and over, digging two fingers into their foreheads as the tears fell like waterfalls. His heart singing songs of anguish and rage as they continued to lay there as lifeless as he had found them. 

                 "Please" he prayed as he had never prayed before. "Please, just this one time, one more miracle for me." Knowing he would never get an answer from the absent father he gave his life to he broke. Can you just imagine the pain and hurt? An angel of the Lord breaking down in front of the bodies of the of the two men he swore to protect with his life.

                 He continued to dig his fingers into their foreheads, praying by some strange act of God they would wake up. All he needed was for them to wake up. He didn't understand why wouldn't they just wake up. 

                 He was tipping over that breaking point again, straddling the line of barely keeping it together and completely falling apart. He just knelt there, head in his hands, letting guilt and fear and pain wash over him like a never-ending river of the worst human emotions. 

                 Just then an overwhelming sense of peace came over him as gentle fingers pressed into his shoulder. He looked up, and came to his feet. Not quite ready to face the person behind him. 

                 But he knew he couldn't keep her waiting. She and her charges wouldn't stay in this world for long. And if he wanted to say goodbye, now might be the last time to chance he got. The last time to see their faces, the last time to see what could have been and what really came to pass. 

                 He turned to face them, not quite prepared for that he saw. There she was, Tessa, dressed in a white gown that looked like it was crafted for the gods themselves and sporting a small sad smile. More so to comfort him then anything else because there they where. 

                 On either side of her were the Winchester boys, looking much like they did in a time before him. A time before hell and purgatory. A time before the hurt and pain wasn't too much for them to bounce back from. A time before him and the angels and the chaos they had brought with them. There they stood, mere echoes of the men they were, smiling and happier then he had ever seen them. He wanted so desperately to speak to them, to tell them exactly what they had meant to him, but he knew that was not in his cards today. Just being able to see them was a favor Death rarely bestowed on anyone and the fact that Death thought of his needs at all, was more then he could ever ask for. So instead he opted to reach out and graze Deans face, just one more time, failing to remember that his fingers would do nothing more then pass through. He tried to contain himself has he turned to face Tessa again just to ask one simple question. 

                 "Why?" 

                  She offered another sad smile before responding. "You know better then anyone, angel. They have given everything they have to give. They have saved this world more times then anyone cares to count. They are finally getting what they deserve, they are finally going home, to a life and family they never had on earth." 

                 "But they can have that here!" he all but shouted at her, the pain and heartbreak twisting his features. A silent but not unnoticed "with me" hung in the air. The reaper shook her head "No, not in this life, you and I both know that the Winchesters were built as worriers, anything less…" she paused. "Anything less and they could never be truly happy here, not with a world in consent need of saving.

                  The angel let her words sink in, this was nothing new, he had known this from experience. From the moment he touched Dean in hell, or when he first shook hands with Sam in that small little town, he knew both men would spend their last dying breaths fighting. Not with him, growing old as only an angel and his hunters could. 

                  He nodes his head once, a sign of acceptance, a sign that Tessa could finally take his brothers, his friends, his one and only family to their final resting place. As Tessa and the boys slowly vanished in a haze of golden light, he turned his heel and walked away, back out into the world that still needed saving. Before leaving the threshold of the room he turned back to regard the spot where Sam and Dean last stood. 

                 "Goodnight boys," he whispered, "Travel well." And with that the angel known as Castiel disappeared into the night. Leaving nothing but the sound of beating wings and the remnants of a broken heart. 

 

* * *

To this day people claim to see a man in a dingy old trench coat walking the streets of the world helping wherever he could. Some said he was a legend born from the hopes and dreams of people who needed something to believe in. Others said he was a ghost with an ancient mission, doing the things no one else had the guts to. And there were still others who believed he was nothing more then a man laden with the chains of guilt simply trying to find his way in a world that left him broken and alone. Either way whoever this man was, one thing was certain. Everywhere he was spotted, if you closed your eyes and opened your heart you could hear it. One solitary mournful voice singing the words "Carry on my wayward son, there'll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest. Don’t you cry no more.”

 

...As if this voice was singing a lullaby to all those who were willing to listen…

…As if he were singing for you...

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first fic (completed fic anyway). I hope you liked it. Feel free to tell me what you think. 
> 
> ~MoiraiFata


End file.
